Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [15]
I paid my respects to Queen Ysandre, who was holding court before the hearth. She waved off my bow and rose to give me the kiss of greeting.
"Well met, young cousin," she said with a smile. "Tonight we rejoice to have you home and safe.”
"My thanks, my lady," I said politely.
Ysandre de la Courcel was tall and slender, with an elegant, clean-cut profile that looked well on the side of a coin. Alais looked nothing like her, except for the violet hue of her eyes. I wondered where Sidonie was. I hadn't seen her yet.
Phèdre and Joscelin were following in our wake, and I moved aside to let them greet the Queen, marking how Ysandre relaxed in their presence, her demeanor warming. I had been taught to observe such things.
"Imriel de la Courcel!" a light voice remarked. I turned to see Julien Trente. He had been a friend once. He was one of those who had apologized, and I had resolved to set my lingering resentment aside.
"Julien." I clasped his hand. "How goes the Game of Courtship?”
"Well enough." He studied my face. "You've been having adventures, I hear. Will we be hearing tales of derring-do tonight, I hope?”
"I hope not," I said.
"Such false modesty!" Another voice, warm and teasing. Mavros Shahrizai slid an arm over my shoulders. "It's unbecoming, cousin." He gave me an affectionate squeeze, then greeted Alais with a deep bow. "Well met, your highness. I'll wager you know a few of our reticent prince's secrets, don't you? Imriel's often spoken of your friendship.”
Alais glowed under his attention. It made me smile, albeit sadly. Too few of the peers of the realm paid heed to Alais, and now that her betrothal to the Alban prince Talorcan—her Cruithne cousin and the brother of my own bride-to-be—had been announced, I doubted it would change for the better.
"Imriel." Bertran de Trevalion hailed me cautiously. "Well met.”
I clasped his hand. "Bertran.”
He took a deep breath. "I understand …my mother said you had a very good talk the other day and certain matters were made clear. And I'm…if I wronged you, I'm sorry for it.”
"Yes, we did. And yes, you did." I glanced over at Bernadette. She stood beside her husband Ghislain, who was deep in conversation with Joscelin. They had fought together during the Skaldi invasion. I used to wish I'd been born earlier, in an era that called for heroism. After Lucca, I felt differently. "Thank you, Bertran.”
"You're welcome," he mumbled. "I am sorry, Imri.”
To my relief, he made a hasty retreat. Bernadette looked in my direction once. There was a combination of apprehension and guilt written on her face. I gave her a brief nod of acknowledgment.
"Here, cousin." Mavros slid a goblet of red wine into my hand. "Mayhap this will help remove that look that says you'd rather be elsewhere.”
"My thanks." I took a sip and felt the hair on the back of my neck prickle. I glanced over at the door and met Sidonie's eyes as she entered the hall.
"What—?" Mavros followed my gaze. "Ah. Still?”
"No." I shrugged. "It's just…”
"An itch begging to be scratched, is it?" he mused. "You've got to watch out for the brittle ones, Imri. It's not always pretty when they break.”
"Shut up, please," I muttered.
Mavros raised his hands. "As you wish, your highness.”
I liked Mavros, I truly did. Our relationship had been uneasy at first, but I'd come to terms with my Shahrizai kin. House Shahrizai was loyal to family above all else and he'd stood by me without flinching when I was under suspicion. But why on earth I'd told him about my furtive feelings for Sidonie—which I barely understood myself—I cannot fathom.
One of her attendants accompanied her: Amarante of Namarre, whose mother was the head of Naamah's Order. They bowed their heads together, whispering as they strolled.
“Imri!”
I nearly jumped at Phèdre's call. She approached me with a strange woman in tow. I frowned, trying to place her. Not D'Angeline, neither young nor old. There was an olive cast to her skin that could